


Strikhedonia

by David_boi



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Bad at tagging, I'll update the tags as I go, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus is high ig, M/M, no plan for this, set before the series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 02:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18305879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/David_boi/pseuds/David_boi
Summary: Magnus is a street musician, playing his days away, praying for change in both ways. He's one of the 43 children born to unsuspecting mothers, but his power, as he puts it, is useless. One day he meets a man named Klaus.





	Strikhedonia

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!  
> Had this idea for a while, decided to try to type it out and share.  
> Hope you enjoy :)

Strumming could be heard over the loudness of traffic and people chattering, yelling and running. It wasn’t a guitar that was being played on, but a ukulele. The lively sounds coming from the instrument was heard by all, but listened to by few. Of course, it was a busy street, filled with busy people, so the musician didn’t mind. Those who stopped to listen, stopped to listen, those who didn’t, had a good reason not to. At least, that’s what the musician told himself.

The person in focus was no ordinary street musician, however. He wouldn’t ever admit it to himself, but he was special. At most, he would joke about being a half-assed vampire. He knew he was one of them. He knew he was one of the 43 unlucky bastards who were born to unwilling and unsuspecting women. Thing is, when the circumstances around your birth leads to you having a superpower, and that power then being to just be able to turn your pulse on and off like a switch, you might feel a little cheated. He’d heard it on the radio, he’d seen it in the telly and newspaper, everyone was talking about them. The Umbrella Academy. From super strength to tentacles growing out of ones stomach, they were at the center of attention more often than not. And what was he left with? An obedient pulse.

But Magnus wasn’t bitter about it. He’d seen what they had to go through at the Academy, and he was thankful that he was just as worthless as any other worthless person. His outlook on life couldn’t be called the brightest, but he got by. 

As he was strumming on the little instrument, the day seemed to pass swiftly. People passed him by, some throwing him some cash. Before he knew it, the day was almost over, and it was time to head back to the little room he had the misfortune of calling home. Really, he could only live there because he had agreed to play at the café that owned it. This was his life. He woke up, sometimes got breakfast and then he was out the door to play in hopes of fortune smiling to him in the form of a little cash. He had tried the office life. It wasn’t for him. He’d rather be a starving artist than live the dull existence of an office drone.

His life continued like this, until Tuesday. Mind you, it was Friday when we began this. This Tuesday started like any other Tuesday would. He did just as I described, only this time he did something he doesn’t usually do quite a lot of. He got down on his knees, and he prayed. Prayed to whoever listened. He didn’t pray for money or good health, no, he prayed for changes to be made to his life. Any change was alright by him. Bad, good or something else entirely, he was just in need of change. He didn’t expect anything to come out of his praying. The deities probably had better people to attend to.

So he headed out to start this Tuesday off before he’d wasted too much time praying. Looking back at it, he thought it foolish. There were millions of people living worse lives than he, and he had the audacity to ask for more. As he thought about it while walking the streets of the city, he felt as if a cold, iron fist had closed around his heart. He felt guilty. He could feel his self-hatred bubbling up and that was never good in public. Last time that had happened, someone had called an ambulance. He got these… well, he didn’t know what to call them. They apparently looked like seizures. They were always triggered by his self-hatred and other bad thoughts. He ran his hands through his long, brown hair, trying to calm himself down. He knew if he began hyperventilating, it would be a lost cause. Breathing through his nose, he forced himself to fight through it and continue walking, even though is legs were unsteady.

When he finally reached the bench he usually sits on, he couldn’t get his ukulele out of its bag quick enough. Music never failed to calm him down. When he began playing, he closed his eyes and let the chords flow through his fingers. His feelings always had a way of making his music more heartfelt. Feelings made everything else so much harder, though. As he sat there, playing, he smiled. He smiled, but he didn’t know why. He decided to try to improvise and write something new. He’d never really thought himself to be any good at it, but he just felt it was right, in the moment. When he’d experimented for a while, he came to play a series of chords in, what he thought, a promising way. He opened his eyes to get his notebook, but was startled by a man, sitting very close to him, staring at him with childlike amazement, mouth slightly agape. Magnus looked at him with wide eyes.

“Uhh-“

“I’m Klaus!” The man – Klaus, cut Magnus off, offering his hand, which Magnus took reluctantly. Klaus had a wide smile plastered on his face, making Magnus give a small smile back. When Magnus studied the man closer, he noticed two things. An… eccentric style and bloodshot eyes.

“I like your little… guitar… thing, it’s very cute,” Klaus said with much enthusiasm. Magnus nodded slowly, “Thanks,” he replied, only a little weirded out by this person, then thought to add, “it’s called a ukulele.” Klaus laughed at that, “Oh, that’s right!” he exclaimed, “The name totally escaped me,” his legs were crossed and his chin was resting on his hand.

“Right,” Magnus said, snorting at the situation.

“You never told me your name, hun,” Klaus stated, “do tell,” he finished, leaning towards Magnus a bit. “Oh, sorry, you just startled me,” Magnus said, hoping, despite it all, he didn’t come off as rude (wait, why did he care?), “I’m Magnus,” he told him with a smile.

“That’s a pretty name,” he said, then tried it out himself, to see how it felt, “yes, I like that.” “Thanks,” Magnus found himself saying, yet again, somehow even more weirded out. All of a sudden, Klaus frowned and looked behind him at an empty spot on the bench, muttering a quick, “Shut up.” Magnus was now sure Klaus was as high as the heavens.

“Sorry?” Magnus said, not knowing if the command was meant for him or an imaginary person. “Oh sorry, not you, someone else,” he explained as if he was saying the weather was slightly cloudy. Magnus decided that he was curious, and also that he didn’t give a fuck anymore.

“Who was it?” he asked, and started to put his ukulele back in its bag. Klaus looked surprised at the question, letting out a barely audible, “Oh,” as he tried to figure out how to explain. It was if he had a moment of utter sadness, but then fog seemed to cloud his mind again.

“His name is Ben. He’s dead,” Klaus explained, then thinking it over and adding, “He’s my brother.” No smile was left on his face, as he seemed distant. Magnus tried to not let the doubt that he was telling the truth show, and instead thought to offer his condolences. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Klaus,” he said, empathy showing in his voice. Klaus looked at him with unreadable eyes and a blank face for a moment, then smiled a sad smile, “He says thanks for the thought.” Magnus got a feeling that Klaus wasn’t making any of this up, or at least that he believed it fully himself. He offered Klaus a sad smile in return. For some reason, Magnus didn’t want to see the other man sad, so he decided to try and lighten the mood.

“So, talking with ghosts is pretty cool!” he stated, before adding, “what I wouldn’t give to tell my dad exactly how much of a dick he was.” For some reason, that last part made Klaus’ smile lighten up again. “Dads are dicks, aren’t they,” he stated, more than asked, and Magnus couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well,” Klaus began, “I’ve gotta blast,” he said, making Magnus feel a slight, unexpected want for him to stay. Nevertheless, he smiled and nodded. Klaus bid him farewell, quite literally, which amused him. As Klaus walked away, Magnus couldn’t help but stare after him.

Magnus practically smiled all day long after that weird-but-interesting meeting. When he packed his things away and turned to walk home, he couldn’t help but admire the clear sky above, with its dusky colours and the occasional flock of birds.

Right before falling asleep that night, he thought one thing.

“I’m so glad I said fuck it”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Don't hesitate to leave a kudo or comment, I'd really appreciate it.


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